Lessons Learned
by EmmaJaye
Summary: The sons of the steward find that more than one lesson can be learned from one incident.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Lessons Learned

Summary: The sons of the steward find that more than one lesson can be learned from one incident.

Story Notes: I can't have them? Why not? I want one. Ok, I want them both, but I'd settle for one. For now. No? Really? Fine. Since I don't own any of them and never will, I will sit here and pout. Then I will write.

Chapter 1

Knocking on his brother's door, Faramir didn't wait for the call to enter, but pushed into the room with all the urgency of a nine year-old wanting to see his big brother. Closing the door, his eyes scanned the room, searching for said brother. But Boromir was nowhere to be seen. Getting ready to call out, the young boy's gaze fell upon a sword. A _real _sword. Not a wooden training one like he was ever allowed.

He took cautious steps towards it, half expecting someone to come storming in and stop him. He reached out, grasped the hilt and slid it out of the sheath. _Valar! Was it heavy!_ It took both hands and all his strength to raise it up. His small arms shook as he took position. He swung the weapon in an arc, amazed at the whooshing sound of the steel cutting through air.

His untrained muscles could not hold such a weight and as he swung the second arc, the blade slid lower, cutting through the top of his soft leather boot and into the delicate flesh of his left foot. The crash of the sword on the stone floor accompanied with the sound of his cry echoed through the room. He crouched to the floor, cradling the appendage as he whimpered. Faintly, he heard water splashing and then the sound of wet feet slapping.

"Faramir! What is wrong?" came Boromir's frantic voice. With a small whine, Faramir fell back onto his bottom and held out his foot, boot and all. "What happened to your foot?" Boromir asked as he reached for it, only to feel his towel start to slip from his narrow hips. Sighing, he quickly moved to the wardrobe where he withdrew a pair of breeches and struggled to pull them up his still damp legs.

Kneeling in front of his brother, Boromir grabbed the foot again and removed the boot, now dark with blood. He examined the large gash, "How did this happen?" Looking up, he saw Faramir glance to his unsheathed sword. "Faramir! You know you are not allowed to handle weapons yet. Father is going to be very displeased."

"I just wanted to see it. I did not think it would be so heavy."

"It is not that heavy. But you are not trained to use it yet." He said as he hefted his little brother into his arms. "You know it's a good thing you're still so small or I wouldn't be able to carry you so easily to the Houses of Healing."

"But they will tell father" Faramir worried as he was transported through the corridors. "Can't you bandage it?"

"It is too deep."

Knowing he would not sway the argument, Faramir rested his head on Boromir's shoulder and tried to ignore the throbbing in his foot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Faramir expected the lecture. Despite that fact, it did not make facing his father any easier.

"I cannot believe this!" Denethor exclaimed from his seat below the throne. "You know that are you not to handle any weapons until you are properly trained. You could have injured yourself far worse than you have. You could have injured someone else."

"I'm sorry, Ada."

"Sorry will not heal your foot. For punishment, you will not have any weapons training or spend time in the library for two weeks. And if this happens again, it will be along time before you are allowed to train."

"Yes, Ada" Faramir answered, looking at the floor. At his father's next words, his head shot up.

"And you, Boromir." Denethor continued, looking to his first-born.

"Adar?"

"If you cannot care for your weapons properly, perhaps you should not be in training. Leaving them where anybody can get hold of them. Your brother is young and though he may be at fault, you are not without your own."

"Yes, Adar" he spoke contritely.

"Also, I do not think I need to tell you that it does no good to the reputation of the House of the Stewards for you to be running through the halls half unclothed." Denethor said dryly.

"No, my lord."

"Very well. You are both dismissed to your chambers until the evening meal."

The two boys left the Great Hall silently and were halfway to their rooms before Faramir spoke. "I'm sorry, Boromir. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"I know, little brother. But Adar is right. I did not attend to my sword properly. I was still filthy and sore from training and could think only of a bath. If I had put it away as I should have, none of this would have happened."

"Hmm" was only the response

"What is done is done. Let us await the meal by playing draughts in my chambers. Perhaps I will allow you to win this time."

This brought a chuckle from the younger boy. "Perhaps I will allow you to win instead."


End file.
